Don't Bring Me Down
by Whaleosaur
Summary: Working title...So, one Draco Malfoy is being pursued. But why...? He shows up in Harry's room after narrowly escaping, leaving The Boy Who Lived to patch him up. Rated T for blood and language and stuff. Possible gay later on. You decide.
1. Keep Running

Desperate footfalls reverberated within the earth. Quick, sometimes stumbling and unsure, they wandered across the forest floor, only to be followed by the tremors of many more, confident and much more stable.

Blond hair and a shivering body darted in and out of the sight of its pursuers. His brain was throbbing with much past abuse and the sudden fading lights of the evening, but right now it was focused on one thing: surviving.

'Where could I go?' he thought. He knew no one would care for seeing him so much, but there must be someone who would help him. There must be, because if there wasn't, he wouldn't survive much longer. His thoughts were messy, and strange and more or less hopeless. The boy was in no shape for such strenuous things.

A faint thought came to his head; a thought he didn't particularly like. But his feet grew heavy and ached from the harsh forest floor. He had no choice; he must go there. It was not an option for him. Weary, he used the last of his strength to apparate from the sight of his assailants. The masked and cloaked men stumbled to a halt at the site of his disappearance. Fury washed over the Death Eaters, but Draco Malfoy felt nothing but relief. 

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><p><strong>AN:** This is kind of the prologue or whatever. This fic is still in the works, so I'll update as I can.

Makin' this up as I go along, but let me know if I made a silly error or something. Also, I don't own Harry Potter, obviously, or I would be eating so many expensive pies right now...


	2. Try Not To Bleed on the Good Furniture

Sitting alone in his room with a book, comfortably stretched across his bed, was a boy with disheveled black hair and absurd-looking glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose. With his the Dursleys away for a brief visit to see whatever extended family the still kept in contact with, Harry Potter had free reign of the house, but tended to stay just in his bedroom, with the silent company of Hedwig snoozing upon his desk.

Well into his chapter, the boy was fairly content and relaxed, as he so rarely was. A nice rest from dangerous magical shenanigans was not unwelcome, and most certainly not taken for granted. Out of the blue, however, while he was in the process of turning a page, Harry felt a strange twinge on his forehead that made him wince. Before he could gather his wits enough to set down his novel, a sharp wind blew through the room like a hurricane.

Covering his eyes, he could only hear past the sheer alarming ringing knocking against his skull when something large and heavy rolled across the carpet and banged against his dresser. He held his breath, unsure of what was to come, and slowly uncovered his eyes at the first sign of dissipation of the awful weather.

Looking about, he gasped rather audibly at the appearance of a huddled mass on his floor. Although for a moment he was just glad that he was the only one home, he rather quickly regained his wits and realized that what was lying on his floor was in fact the crumpled body of a human being! For a few moments there was nothing the Gryffindor could do but stare in awe of the sudden and curious disruption of his restful evening. Soon, however, his mind did catch up to the situation, and the boy tentatively slid off his bed and walked silently around to peek at the face of the person who had so rudely entered, but it was hidden between his arm and the dresser.

Slowly regaining his hero complex, he shook the body lightly, "Hey…Hey, are you awake? Are you alright?"

A weak unconscious twitch of worn-out muscles caused the boy to shift just so, and left him lying almost on his back. His eyes were still closed, but the sudden change of position gave Harry a full view of his face (battered as it was). Harry stood, subconsciously backing away slightly from the weak and bleeding boy.

'Malfoy?' he thought, grimacing unhappily at the kid who had tortured the golden trio so often in the past. 'Why the hell is he here? Why would he apparate _here_? And why…' He gave him another strange look, taking in the rest of his person once more and watching the blood seeping into the fibers of the carpeting. Hate, confusion and pity shone in his eyes, and he didn't know what to do with the boy. But he knew one thing for sure: he did _not_ want blood stains on the carpet when Dursleys got home.

Picking him up less than gingerly by his arms, he dragged him with surprisingly little difficulty to the bathroom, where he lay him down on the tile floor. Harry wished he could clean up the awful mess in his room before the stains set in, but unfortunately he was compelled to help the bloody little rat lying motionless in front of him first.

Frustrated by this sudden responsibility, he grudgingly stood above his rival for a few moments before he felt he really ought to get several things from the cabinets, there in case of emergency, and set to work. He didn't know much about critical injuries, but what better could he do than to try? I mean, he didn't really _like_ the kid, but he didn't want him to bleed to death on his bathroom floor.

Working at the buttons on the blond's slightly torn shirt, Harry managed to remove the bloodied thing, revealing much more damage than the boy had ever hoped to see on a body—even on a Malfoy. Even the dark mark upon his forearm wasn't given so much as a second glance when juxtaposed with the rest of him. There were bruises littering his frame (which was a little too thin to be healthy), and lacerations and scars crossed each other in many places. Harry could see few plains of skin unmarred, but those were rare and small, and mostly painted with blood at any rate.

More nervous than ever now, and losing his determination to remain upset at the limp figure in front of him, he brought himself to take off Malfoy's pants. As much as he really did not want to, he needed to assess the damage. Luckily, the boy's legs were not quite so bad as his torso or arms. Harry cringed to think what his back might look like.

After several additional moments of stunned gawking, he collected himself enough to grab a towel and dampen it in the sink, and then started to gently dry the blood that still flowed, doing his best to clean off that which was already encrusted on his skin. Once that was finished, something needed to be done about the wounds still open. Harry shoved through the contents of a nearby cabinet to grab a small brown bottle. He unscrewed the cap, carefully dabbed some of the disinfectant on a tissue and…

"EYAAAAA," a terrible shriek escaped the lungs of Draco Malfoy and filled the room. Scared shitless by this sudden spike in volume, Harry lost his grip on the bottle of disinfectant and stumbled backward. The screams continued for a bit, but the black-haired boy was too shocked to respond immediately. There was little movement on Draco's part, but the painfully loud cries were terribly alarming. As soon as they began to weaken, Harry chanced crawling a bit closer to the whimpering boy.

He peered cautiously at Draco, still noticeably a bit shaken and put off by the deafening noise. As soon as the perpetrator had relatively come to his senses and heard Harry's approach, his eyes shot wide open in fear, then changed to confusion, then to astonishment, and then finally to anger.

"Potter," he tried to spit out as venomously as he could, but it was a poor attempt compared his usual. Once he spoke, things began coming back to him a bit, and he remembered why he was in Potter's presence in the first place. Just as he figured, the boy was less than happy to have him there.

"Yeah, I'm just as fucking surprised to see you here, and what with the entrance you made. Bloody near destroyed my room." Neither was overjoyed to be in the company of the other, but Malfoy was trying not to make the situation worse, at least. He was in the stupid, fumbling hands of Harry Potter, hero-boy, and he just wanted a moment without pain. As much as he hated to think it, he needed at least a quick patch-up.

"I didn't want to be here, Potter. I didn't quite have a choice," he motioned weakly at his state of health. He then laid down his head and closed his eyes. No…he didn't hate to think he needed help. But Potter expected a certain pompous and snarky attitude, and he was only barely able to provide it.

"Can't see why you came to me. And to be frank, I wish you hadn't. I don't suppose you know how hard blood stains are to get out of a carpet." Malfoy rolled his head to the side so that he didn't have to look at this annoyance any longer. He almost wanted to apologize. Almost. But he must keep up appearances, and it's not like he wanted to be the bloody mess that crashed into the unsuspecting wizard's bedroom!

Harry just sighed in irritation and picked up the spilled bottle off the floor, glad at least that there was still some of the liquid left. He dabbed it on the tissue again.

"This is gonna hurt," he said, not necessarily with any compassion, but he nonetheless felt a sting of pity for the bleeding boy once the tissue touched his skin and he tried his best to muffle a shout of pain.

'I wonder what he's gotten himself into this time…' he wondered as he continued to dab at the wounds. He helped the boy lie on his stomach, much to the displeasure of the blond, and Harry's face softened as he looked upon the devastation. Malfoy's breath hitched while he tried to ignore as much of his discomfort as he could, but he still couldn't help as a quick tear or two slipped past his guard.

Now, he didn't take much notice of it in his little fit, but it certainly caught Harry's eye. Something was different with Malfoy. Not just his appalling condition, but maybe something deeper. And upon realizing this, something softened in Harry as well. He continued to clean the wounds, dressing them and looking in silent shock at each inch of marred skin. Thankfully, much of it was wounds long since healed, but it was still a disturbing sight.

It was truly amazing that Malfoy had managed to wake at all from his blood-loss-induced slumber…Or maybe it was the dresser to the cranium that did it. Either way, it was too bad that he had, just in time to face the pain of cleaning his wounds. As Harry sat there silently after tending to the injuries, the boy before him sensed his astonishingly somber shock and awe. Harry's quiet gazing was instantly readable, if only by his wide but tired-looking eyes. His hand reached up once toward the freshly bandaged body but then was slowly brought back to his side. The project of mending a battered Draco Malfoy seemed to have left him a little boggled.

"Later," Malfoy said tiredly, certain of what Potter was thinking, "I'll tell you later."

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><p><strong>AN:** Eh...I like this chapter more than the previous one, which was...stupidly short. Thank you, oh single kind soul who reviewed~! How kind... ;u;

Please let me know if you see errors, if you need clarifications, or if you just have any nice comments~! Also, as I'm making this up as I go, I'll take into account anything that people say they'd like to see in the future of this fic. Thank you! 3


	3. Yes, You Are Wearing My Underwear

Malfoy had been asleep for the past eleven hours. Harry had originally stayed up to watch him twitch and whimper in his sleep (he couldn't tell if he was worried for the boy or if he simply wanted to watch him freak out) , but drowsiness soon overtook him and he had fallen into a slumber as well at the bedside.

Potter was sleeping quite peacefully for several good hours before his dreaming was abruptly and unceremoniously ended. He was awoken suddenly by a lot of desperate flailing and loud, miserable protests—but mostly it was an arm in his face that successfully brought him back into reality.

Harry started, shocked out of his wits for several long seconds before the realization that a blond-haired boy was the cause of all the commotion. Having forgotten in his slumber much about the previous night, this was quite the awkward moment until everything came back to him in an awful flash. A half-asleep Slytherin was in his very bed, jostling about terribly and causing quite a disquieting ruckus.

"And here I was hoping this would all have been a nightmare…" he moaned. With that, he reached for the rapidly moving arms of his patient and pinned them down, hoping that that would calm the boy. Unfortunately, it did just the opposite.

"No. No! Stop it! Stop…!" Malfoy shrieked, whipping his arms fervently in attempts to be free of his captor. Harry was shocked once more, and let go, allowing the frightened boy to scramble away and knock his head painfully upon the wall. At once, Draco snapped fully awake, panting and curling tightly into a ball. He looked around with wide and wild eyes and suddenly Harry caught his attention.

He once more shrunk backward in surprise as Harry (shaken with confusion and, he must admit, guilt a little bit of guilt) managed to say, "It's alright, Malfoy. You're alright."

Malfoy flinched as he felt the pain of his recent injuries reopening. but the other boy's voice soothed him a little. He looked down and then up again, forcing himself to gain control of his mind once more. Despite what he's been through, what he most wanted was to have control of himself. Unfortunately, that was hardly an easy option at this point.

"Sorry," Draco apologized in a startled, but nevertheless sincere, way. Harry's surprised look didn't falter for a second—why, it may have become more incredulous—as he took in the sound of the single strangest word Malfoy had ever uttered. Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, never apologized. The world must be ending, he thought.

"…What?" Malfoy looked unsure of himself.

"Umm, nothing. Just, whatever happened to you," he sat down once again on the chair beside the bed, "changed you…I guess." He didn't know what else to say. Honestly, he was dumbfounded by a Malfoy so shaken up.

"But I guess that happens when…" he motioned to Draco, but more precisely at his bandaged body.

Draco looked down for the first time, seeing himself bandaged made him smile genuinely in a relieved way that vicariously made Harry a little happy, too. But then his focus switched to something rather embarrassing. He was in only his skivvies! In front of Harry Potter, in his very bed, he had nothing on but a pair of boxers! And he could tell by the lack of blood stains that they weren't his own.

Quickly, he shielded himself from Potter's view with the covers and blushed ever so slightly. The boy sitting in front of him couldn't help but giggle at this.

"It's fine, you know! Nothing I haven't seen before." Draco's blush deepened, but he didn't feel like arguing. Instead, he hurriedly switched the topic.

"Have you…been sitting here while I was asleep?" Harry stopped his laughing, but he didn't look stern as expected. He propped his elbows up on his knees and rested his chin on his hands.

"What did you suppose I'd do? You're hurt pretty bad. I had to keep an eye on you."

"It's not so bad," the boy retorted somewhat quietly, hoping still to defend his pride, "I mean, there were only a couple fresh wounds." He smiled somewhat confidently up at Harry, who was disturbed not only because Draco had smiled at him, but also because the boy apparently did not seem to understand the weight of the situation.

"Only a couple of fresh wounds, my arse! And they were damn awful, too! And don't smile at me like that; if it weren't for my help after you _apparated_ into my room, causing a pretty decent mess and leaving me a bloody undesirable responsibility on me to patch your sorry arse up, you'd be in pretty rough shape right now!" He motioned to the blood stains still in the carpet, "And how do you suppose I'll clean these up now that they're all dried in? The Dursleys come home this afternoon, and don't even get me started on how _screwed_ I would've been if you'd come tumbling in while they were here!"

Malfoy winced at this, creeping as far back as he could on the bed. Harry's words stung pretty harshly, and although he hated it, he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Harry looked at him for a while, daring him to shout back, but he was slightly disappointed when he did not. When Malfoy spoke, it nearly struck him in the heart.

He looked down nervously and then brought his eyes up so he could see Harry's irritated face.

"You were the only one I could think of…" the boy muttered after a short time of nervous silence, "I…I needed help." A couple tears started falling as he fumbled with his words, "I…you…you were the only one I could…I'm sorry."

As the blond shivered and buried his face shamefully in Harry's bedclothes, he looked like a scared child. Immediately Harry felt a little cruel. But how was he supposed to know that the Malfoy kid would _cry_, for Christ's sake!

Putting his face in his hands, he cursed himself for doing that, even though Malfoy deserved it-especially when taking into account all of his past transgressions when it came to Harry, Ron and Hermione. He lifted his head and looked curiously and pitifully at the boy who was once his tormentor with his pale green eyes.

Harry yanked the covers down from Draco's grasp and the boy, whose tears had subsided into deep, shaky breaths, flinched at the action but didn't even look up.

"Malfoy, look at me," Harry ordered. He didn't know what he was going to say yet. Half of him wanted to comfort the kid and the other half was so glad that the tables had turned and wanted nothing more than to make his life a living hell and give the git a good slap.

Draco's eyes cautiously lifted upward. "Whatever's gotten into you, it's weird. I'm starting to wonder when you'll snap out of it and jump me." Malfoy's eyes grew sad with a slight angry flicker. He knew that he had been pretty awful in the past, but Harry didn't know the half of what he'd gone through. There might be no way for him to earn his trust now, but he wanted to try, anyway. He felt safety near Harry after he'd almost forgotten what safety felt like, and he hated how stupidly emotional he'd become, but everything was different now...

"You know I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. But I won't have you crying in my bed, either."

"Listen, Harry, I—" He stopped there, realizing he had called the boy by his first name.

"Getting a little chummy there, eh, Malfoy? Think that'll soften me up?" He scoffed, despite his slowly emerging soft spot for the kid.

"N-no, I just wa—"

"Even the stuttering, huh? Got a couple tricks up your sleeve. You're daft if you think that'll make me want to help you any-"

"No, Potter, please listen!" Harry did not move or speak. He just sat there, staring, with his arms folded.

"You don't know…okay? I don't want to be mean like that any more. I never really wanted to. You don't know anything about me. I don't know anything about you, either, but please, give me a chance..."

His voice trailed off at the end. He looked so sad and conflicted, and it almost hurt to say those words. Last night he had at least tried to act like the old Malfoy, but he wanted to stop all that now, before it happened on its own, and before it cost him his one and only lifeline.

Not necessarily knowing what to think, Harry rested his cheek on his palm once more, looking Draco up and down. Then he got up and walked out of the room. Draco choked back a small sob and collapsed on the bed. He faced the wall and curled up, fighting the stinging sensation of his myriad wounds.

Steps could be heard coming up the stairs. The blond on the bed craned his neck with difficulty and managed to see Harry with a bucket and sponge and spot cleaner in his hands.

Draco felt around for his wand, which he found on the bedside table, and pointed. Harry noticed and darted out of the way just before Malfoy managed to say, "Scourgify."

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><p><strong>AN:** For those of you who don't know, "scourgify" cleans shit...yeah. Also, I still don't own Harry Potter. I'm sure many of you were thinking "Oh! This person is so great and literate and all that; why, I'm sure she owns this series!" But no. I don't. Sorry.

The next chapter is going to be really short. I apologize in advance~ But it'll be up soon.

The more people that review, the sooner I'll update! 3

Now I see why authors have to threaten the readers regarding upcoming chapters...


	4. Leaving

The Dursleys would be home soon. Harry didn't want to be caught dawdling around, and he certainly didn't want them to see a severely injured and—let's admit it—rather feminine boy lying in his bed. Thankful that at least the cleaning was over, he still wasn't terribly impressed with his new "roommate".

A drained Draco Malfoy was sprawled across Harry's bed still. The boy was oddly placid in Harry's point of view, and although he had implored him to understand that he was being sincere, the raven-haired teen refused to let his guard down.

Plopping down on the edge of the mattress, Harry couldn't help but sigh and look toward the mass of Slytherin next to him. He didn't know if he could necessarily be gentle with Malfoy, but he couldn't bring himself to be harsh, either.

"You have to go today. When the Dursleys get home, you can't be here. Go home and let your parents take care of you." Despite himself, he spat the word "parents" out with a hiss.

Malfoy eyed him for a moment, but soon averted his gaze, "Not going back there." Harry scoffed a bit as if he was talking to a moody toddler.

"Well, I don't care where you go, just get out of here." He was obviously peeved that he was nursing this nuisance back to health, and he couldn't wait to be rid of him before he ended up trying something sneaky…

Draco sighed and curled up in the covers a little bit. Apparently that childish ignorance was the last straw for Harry, as he quickly ripped the sheets away from the boy and glared right through him. The blond flinched and covered his face with his arms at the violent action, expecting something painful to follow.

"Please. Get. Out." He may be livid, but that's no excuse to forget one's manners, now is it?

Once the panic was subsided in Malfoy's chest, he stood up unsteadily. Harry stomped from one side of the room to the other and back, and shoved some clothes at him which he unhappily scrambled into. He moved gingerly but speedily down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, he gave one more look to Harry, who only stared emotionlessly in reply, and then exited the house halfheartedly.

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><p><strong>AN:** I am disappointed...Not a single review. Thusly, I don't feel nearly as bad for giving you this measly chapter in return. A legit critique is always more than welcome, as are flames. Those are such fun! So, please...Don't be shy, now...


	5. The Muggle World is Harsh, Too

It was less than three days later that a faint knock echoed through the halls of the Dursley household. Lazing about the house were three largely ungracious buffoons and one savior of the wizarding world. Blundering into the front hall, Vernon Dursley grudgingly flung the front door open wide, not happy that he had to get up from his comfortable spot on the couch. His large pink face in the doorway was quite the surprise of a particular blond-haired teen who had expected Harry, and jumped to see the ornery man raise his eyebrows at him in discontent.

"Boy!" the portly man yelled into the hall, "One of your _friends_, I suppose?" He took another careless glance to the blond before turning into the house once more. The messy black hair on Harry's head bobbed as he bounded down the stairs to the door.

There, he stopped. At first it was in shock, and then he grew peeved. Swiftly, he stepped outside and shut the front door behind him. He turned to Malfoy, less than happy about his reappearance. A moment or two without words made the visitor nervous, and he was about to speak before another voice broke the silence.

"_What_ are you doing back here?" the taller boy sighed.

Twitching subconsciously, Draco muttered something almost incoherent, "I…don't…know where to go." It was a sentence, but it sounded like a question. His voice was squeaky to begin with, but now he just sounded helpless. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What do you mean? Go home, or something. Geez, really?" Malfoy felt the sting of his frustration.

"I can't go home, Potter. I told you, I can't go home, okay? I…I've no idea where I am, or where I'm going, it's cold nights and there's nothing for me to eat…I just—I don't know what to…do…" The boy looked down, ashamed, gripping the bottom of the shirt the other had loaned him with all his force. He shook, disappointed in himself and feeling abominably needy.

Harry sat down on the step and held his palms to his eyes. He sat there for a while and sighed again in waning frustration, "Why can't you go home, Malfoy?" The blond did not look up; he only forced his muscles to tense more, but this only caused more unwilled shivering. Weary eyes focused on the pavement.

"I can't…okay? I…can't." Harry looked up at the sky, and then refocused on the shivering Draco Malfoy before him. He couldn't make up his mind what to think about this stupid situation.

"What, is Voldemort there? Seems you're pretty chummy with him as well," his eyes flickered to the offending arm which bore the dark mark. "Malfoy, I don't want you at my doorstep every other day. Go. Back." He pressured.

Draco only flinched and closed his eyes as he felt the stare of the scarred boy digging into him. "That's not right…" he whimpered, hating that the other student thought he really enjoyed being the Dark Lord's plaything.

Potter stood, tired of the Slytherin's silly games, and strode over to the boy. Grasping his wrist, he ordered, "If you won't leave, I'll apparate you there myself." Ready and willing to do it, too, he was halted when something snapped inside Malfoy, causing him to freak out.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, please – Please, don't! Oh, God, I can't go back there! Don't make me go back! Don't make me go back. Please, please, _please_!" He had dropped to the ground now, flinging himself about like a child having a fit and successfully breaking free of Harry's hold. He curled up on the concrete with his hands over his head breathing in quick and shallow huffs.

That alarming display of disgraceful behavior switched something in Harry's brain. A Malfoy shouldn't act like this…Not unless there was something truly wrong. Draco was a coward, but he was proud…and this wasn't normal. He knelt down to Malfoy's level and placed his hand gently on his shoulder, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a shudder from the blond.

"Malfoy," the Gryffindor breathed, "What's wrong…really?" He sat down, his eyes narrowing in guilt as he heard muffled cries beside him.

Only a sniffle was his reply. Harry leaned back on his hands, conflicted.

"Malfoy," he nudged, "Malfoy," another nudge. Finally there was movement, and Draco wiped his eyes, calming himself and gaining back his senses. Cloudy grey eyes trailed wearily up to meet the green eyes of the boy who lived.

"Sorry," the Slytherin mumbled, uncurling himself and sitting cross-legged next to Harry as they both faced his front door.

"Don't worry about it. I guess I owe you an apology, too, for being a total arse," he smiled slightly, but did not look at the boy next to him.

"It was…understandable," Malfoy admitted as he sheepishly glanced underhandedly at an oblivious raven-haired teen.

"So…Why can't you go back?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes in an unmistakable gesture that he most certainly didn't want to talk about it. Harry kindly avoided the subject.

"Umm, so you've been out here for a couple days, huh? Have you eaten anything?" He did his best to ignore Duddley's fat face in the window making obscene gestures, doubtless a mockery of the apparent homosexuality of the situation the boy now found himself in.

Draco shook his head. 'So he hasn't eaten anything…' he thought. Three days was a long time. But Harry barely got much food as it is, and certainly no one would be fond of having a surprise dinner guest – particularly if it was a friend of Harry's.

"Wait here," he said as he rushed back inside the house. Obediently, the blond waited. The Gryffindor rushed out again moments later and stopped in front of the teen, offering up a handful of coins.

Malfoy had seen muggle money before, but he never had any handed to him. He gawked briefly, looking between the coins and Potter's face, as if unsure about taking them, and slightly confused about using them.

"Here, Take them," Harry nudged them closer. The blond held out his hands as the clinking metal was transferred to him.

"Go get yourself some good food and clothes, and come back here tonight, okay? I can't believe I'm helping you…Just don't turn around and start being a dick again or I'll beat the bloody hell out of you."

With that, Malfoy curtly nodded and stood. "Thank you so much…"

"Don't mention it. Now, get." He turned on his heel and walked away as the telltale gust of wind from an apparation whirled about him.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks to those of you who've reviewed~! I can't promise that it will go too much faster, but I'll try to pick up the pace a little. ;)


	6. Take Another Look

Now fed and clad in clothing of his own fashion, Draco Malfoy trotted back to the Dursley residence with a partially-refreshed sense of hope. Potter might be starting to trust him, and to be willing to help him he must have some sort of faith, right?

When he came toPrivet Drive he stalled because he was unsure if Harry had meant that he should knock on his door or wait outside for him. He made his way to the driveway slowly and tried to look as harmless as possible meandering along the curb until a certain black-haired boy slipped out the front door.

"You've made it here just at the right time," noted Harry as he walked to meet the other boy at the foot of the driveway.

Draco was admittedly relieved to hear this, and smiled gently. In his hands was a small pile of clothes: the ones that Harry had lent him. Malfoy raised them up in offering to his helper.

"I brought these back, too. Thanks for that," Harry took them with one hand and dropped them down at his feet.

"Good. I would wonder about you if you hadn't." This solicited no reaction from Draco, on whose mind was only what the plan was from here.

The blond stood diligently as the taller teen strode over, grabbed his hand, and disapparated in a flash. The act was startling to the unsuspecting boy, and even upon arriving on the solid oak floorboards of a poorly-lit hallway he gasped and stood stock still.

"Okay, so…We're here!" his companion called.

"What…Where is this?" His eyes wandered about, taking in the quiet, undisturbed mustiness of ancient rooms, lit only by a few windows too dirty and heavily curtained to provide much to see by, especially at nighttime. Walls with peeling wallpaper, and seeming to barely be holding up the ceiling; pictures hanging precariously upon bent and rusting nails…It was a purely silent place, in quite an eerie way.

"Well, you said you couldn't go home, and I can't just take you back to my room. So feast your eyes on the House of Black…Or something. Yeah, not very many people even come here any more, so you'll have it all to yourself. Well, you and Kreacher…"

Malfoy arched his eyebrow, and Harry continued, "Kreacher is the house elf. So you'll be fine here; you can leave whenever. Well," he raised his hand, "See ya!"

He was making for a quick escape, but the Slytherin quickly grabbed his hand and he halted his attempt at apparation immediately. He was growing somewhat weary of this nonsense and forced himself to face Draco. Annoyance and frustration were everywhere upon his features.

"What, Malfoy?" he droned.

"Are you just going to leave me here? I don't even know where I am. You'll stay with me, right?"

"Uh…yeah, I was kind of figuring on just leaving you here, yep. What do you want me to do? I'm essentially hiding a death eater…I'm sure that has to be some sort of illegality."

Draco's face fell a little at the mention of death eaters. Without thinking, he clutched with more force the hand he had just recently captured.

"I…I didn't want to be a death eater, you know. I don't like the thought of it. I never thought I'd become one," the blond mentioned blankly.

Harry was a little taken aback. He could have sworn this boy was devil-spawn since the day they met. As he grew older he practically screamed "evil", so he couldn't imagine the proud and haughty boy not wanting to serve the Dark Lord alongside his family.

"What are you talking about? Your dear mum and dad are both Death Eaters, and everyone knows how much you _love_ your father." To this, Draco shook his head, and never quite managed to look Harry in the eye.

"You're wrong, in a lot of ways. I won't ever become like him."

"That's an awful weird thing to say, coming from someone who's pretty much just Lucius Malfoy in a smaller skin."

"Only because he wanted me that way. I'm not trying to make anyone proud any more. I'm giving it up; I can't keep going like that, so I'm done."

This string of words sounded nothing like the Draco Malfoy that Harry knew. It sounded like someone with no hope left. Even though the confused boy was not thinking, every word he spoke resonated. It was all how he felt, and Harry didn't move a muscle. He could tell the boy was done; the shade in his eyes erased all brightness that might once have been there.

"What are you talking about, Draco?" He loosened his hand from the boy's grip and sat down on the creaky floor. He was shortly followed by his tired-looking companion.

"You know, all that bullshit…I don't think I'm a mean person."

"No, you only _act_ like a douchebag," Harry laughed quietly. Unfortunately he was the only one that liked the sarcasm, and Draco's eyes were downturned.

"Yeah," he agreed, much to the other's surprise. Harry was starting to take this more seriously and leaned in.

"And you did it to impress your dad."

"Yep."

"I'm sure he was very proud that he taught you to be the most-hated kid at Hogwarts."

To this, the blonde just brought the base of his palm to his forehead and sighed. Hair fell in his face. He stayed this way for a short while without interruption before he ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it, and looking up again.

He didn't want to talk about it any more. He stood up, and while he did, a little light was there again in his features—Harry noticed.

"Bye, I guess. Thanks for everything," he raised his hand in farewell this time. Harry stood from the floor and dusted himself off, then strode to Malfoy and knocked his hand from the air, startling the boy.

"Shut up, now. I'll show you around."

**A/N: **Yyyyep. Another short one. Sorry it took me so long. I've been really busy. But I have more chapters ahead, so I'll update more frequently.

I don't think I'm going to actually finish this fic (like about 80% of all multi-chapter fics on FFN), but I don't want to leave you without an ending, so I'll do my best to get re-inspired.


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